


Faded cards: The Warden

by Xaverri



Series: Threads of the Fade [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Lust and Hate, Porn With Plot, Rivalmance, Rough Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaverri/pseuds/Xaverri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Hawke finds herself once again wrapped up in the same old tale: Mysteries to uncover, a world to save and trying her hardest not to strangle/bang a Grey Warden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work can be read as a one-shot. If you are curious for the first part you can read The Drunk [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3764773/)  
> 

 

**I can control my destiny, but not my fate. Destiny means there are opportunities to turn right or left, but fate is a one-way street. I believe we all have the choice as to whether we fulfil our destiny, but our fate is sealed.**

_**Paulo Coelho** _

 

_Dear sister,_

_Time is short, so only a short message this time. As soon as this reaches you; head off to the place where father took mother after you were born. I sincerely hope you remember it, else this will all be in vain. I have to take this risk however as it's impossible to tell you details out of fear for the safety of my friend._

_Once you reach that place, you will meet with him and he will explain more of our concerns. This is important, sister. Beyond anything you might think_ _: Don't trust any other Warden right now. But please do not worry for me; I've taken precaution and am heading off somewhere safe._

_I hope this message reaches you in good health. I continue to miss you terribly and wish we could meet soon but it's better for me and my friend to split up._

_With love,_

_Your sister_

_PS: PLEASE try to stay professional, sis._

 

 _Here we go again,_ Hawke grumbled. Her sister, _younger_ sister at that, always admonishing her as if she was their mother. Even after reading the letter for what must have been dozens of times, that last sentence still made no sense to Hawke. She was _always_ professional, whatever was Bethany talking about?

She leaned back against the rock she had chosen as seat. From her point she had a good view of the lake, the cabin and dock. Perfectly able to see anyone, or anything approaching without being in full view herself. Stuffing the letter back in the hidden pocket under her breastplate she cast another look over the surrounding fields, shivering slightly in the cold wind. At least it had finally stopped raining for a bit. Maker, but she was already getting grouchy from the constant downpour so the sight of a bit of blue sky and sunshine did wonders for her mood. How the people here in Crestwood survived the weather, she had no clue.

Luckily she didn't need to wait too long. Just two days out here and her timing must've been close to perfect; a lone, ginger-haired Grey Warden emerged past a hill, walking purposefully towards the cabin dressed in the recognisable armour. It was a big chance this was her sister's friend since Grey Wardens were loath to travel alone, as far as she knew. With Bethany's warning in mind she held her shield and sword at the ready while she slowly ascended her hill towards him.

He noticed her almost immediately and mirrored her battle-stance, letting her walk towards him. With every step she took she could pick up more details about him. It was no surprise to see he filled out the Warden uniform nicely; a true warrior like so many she'd seen before. What was refreshing, however, was the absence of the ugly mug that usually came with the profession; broken noses, scars, rugged beards. He seemed pretty much flawless which could only speak for his skill.

Or perhaps he was just very good at running away.

But no, that steely resolve in his eyes and the grim line of his lips spoke of no fear. On the contrary; he radiated calculating confidence as he sized her up and she made sure to match his expression every bit and then some.

Finally close enough to be in speaking distance without having to raise her voice, but far enough to be prepared for any move he'd made she nodded at him.

"Marian Hawke?"

"So you know my name. That means nothing. Many people know my name. Tell me something that only _she_ could have told you."

"Your father dropped you accidentally as a child. They had to rush you to the healer who could cure most of the damage save for some scarring. You should have that scar in the hairline at your neck."

Oh, of all the embarrassing things that Bethany could have told him; _that_ was what she went with? Suspicion placated, she sheathed her sword and stepped closer towards him. He tensed slightly so she stopped to turn around and bent her head in invitation.

Despite being quite sure that he could be trusted, her heart-rate still sped up at the vulnerable position she put herself in. Gloved fingers trailed along her neck and she couldn't suppress the shiver going through her at the intimate gesture. She could sense him expecting the old scar, hidden from anyone's view by her black hair and after a few seconds his hand pulled back, prompting her to turn around again.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly when he relaxed, sheathing his sword. She tried not to let the strong line of his jaw distract her too much but then he looked back up at her, stretching out his hand for a handshake wearing the kind of smirk that went straight to her stomach. Suddenly, she understood what Bethany had meant.

It was going to be terribly difficult to stay professional.

 

\-------

 

Hawke sank her teeth deeply into the fruit, groaning in satisfaction. The second didn't taste any less sweet than the first and she couldn't care less that juices were running down her chin. She was moaning like a woman in ecstasy because she _was_.

The ride back to Skyhold from the sandy Approach had been three times as fast curtesy to the extra horses that the Inquisitor had taken with him. It'd been a harsh ride; her arse hurt in places even a Kirkwall prostitute would find painful and she'd had little sleep but at least they had _let_ her sleep. Thanks to the larger group she was allowed off watch-duty at night and it had been hard not to kiss Inqui's shiny boots in gratefulness.

And now back at Skyhold there were all these wonderful things available to her like proper food, fresh drinks, baths and the promise of a bed that was more than a thin layer of cloth on the cold, barren ground. She'd planned to indulge herself into each and every of these gifts in exactly that order. After the war room meeting a mid-day banquet had been laid out for all of them. She had singled out her most favourite fruit of all, grabbed the whole bowl for herself, planted herself at Varric's table and dug in with unparalleled eagerness.

Scraping her teeth along the hard pit, she sucked to make sure she wouldn't leave any of the goodness behind. Pointedly ignoring the amused chuckle beside her at her loud, smacking sounds, she threw the pit over her shoulder and went for her third.

"Either I have severely underestimated your love of peaches," Varric laughed, "Or you have been equally missing out on what _normal_ people would use for sexual gratification."

He wasn't far off, she had to admit secretly.

"You have no idea, Varric," She took a big bite, the rest of her sentence came out muffled making the dwarf scrunch up his nose in disgust.

"You'd think living a few years in a wealthy estate with titles and prestige that you'd at least know how to eat nobly. I'm saddened to see the manners your darling mom spend so long to impose on you did not hang about."

She swallowed, "Give me a break. I've been running across half Thedas, often no more than stale bread and burnt Nug as rations, stinking like a Druffalo in heat and equally frustrated but were you there to chew me out on my etiquette? I didn't think so."

She suckled the last pieces of the fleshy fruit off the pit, contemplating taking a fourth. She really shouldn't as, with everything delicious, it would only give her painful cramps later. And that was a euphemism she was definitely not going to link to Alistair. She scowled at the thought and wiped her chin dry with the sleeve of the combat gear she hadn't even taken the chance to change out of.

Varric leaned forward on the table they were seated on in the Main Hall of Skyhold, tucked away in a private corner. The predatory grin that stretched on his face halted her thoughts. Had she said something stupid? That smirk meant he was sniffing a hidden story and that usually meant she had said something stupid.

"Frustrated, hmm?" he said slyly.

"Oh," _there we go._ Would she be able to shrug that one off? _With Varric? Highly unlikely._ Did she want to shrug it off? Maker, no. It was good to finally be able to voice her thoughts again, unashamedly, to her best friend, "Do you remember Sebastian?"

"Of course," he scoffed, then sighed, mockingly fluttering his eyelashes, "Dark, meticulously combed soft hair. The clearest, bluest eyes under the Maker's sky. Gritty voice with an accent _so sexy_ it made all the Chantry sisters re-evaluate their career plans. Bulging arms from working bow and arrow like a pro and boy, did you like to make him work it _in your service_ , did you not?"

"You need to put him in the next 'Shields and Swords', I'm sure Cassandra would be creaming her pink panties at your version of the Prince of Starkhaven," she poised her chin on her hand, elbow on the table and mimicked Varric's languishment, "But he was pretty, wasn't he? And of course he just had to be excruciating devout and proper, yet still I _know_ he would've jumped at the chance to get with me if he hadn't given himself to the Maker. I always caught his eyes lingering just a little bit too low to be innocent and that blush," she blew air up, making her bangs flutter, "So frustrating."

Varric's eyes widened and she knew he caught on, "After each mission with him, you were devouring peaches faster than Isabela gobbled up men."

"Exactly," she pointed the pit at him, "Hawke one-oh-one."

"So is this like Choirboy, then?"

"No," Hawke said, looking over to the object of her frustrations, whom was stretched out like a cat on his chair after having devoured a large plate of what looked like various types of cheeses, looking every bit the relaxed, confident and delicious man she wanted to sink her teeth in, "It's worse."

He leaned back, "I'm seeing where this is going. So spicy Princes, that are for some unexplainable reason playing hard-to-get, equals Hawke frustratingly biting in a substitute kind of soft flesh, correct?"

"You have such a way with words, Ser Tethras," she said smiling, "although this time he is, praise Andraste and all that's holy, luckily not a _Prince_. I don't think my poor feminine parts could handle that. It's been bad enough that I have to be all Grown-Up and Serious with this war going on and- why are you smiling like that? I don't like it when you're smiling like that."

Varric was decidedly smiling like _that_ and she narrowed her eyes at him, "Out with it!"

"Oh Hawke, you do know I love you, right? And you do know that I would absolutely never do anything to make your life more difficult, right?"

"Liar," she threw the pit at him, he didn't even bother ducking, "You'd take any and every chance to do so plus your books sell so much better the worse my misery."

"I apologise in advance, with deep regards to your lady parts, but if I think I know who you're referring to and well, of course I do," he nodded unsubtly towards Alistair's general direction, "Then what I'm going to tell you is going to make you very miserable."

 

\------

 

"I cannot believe the risk you just put us through."

Alistair seemed royally pissed as he pulled his sword out of the previously living body of a bandit, the last of the small group that they just slain. Blood splattered on the pristine snow that covered the lands of the Emprise, staining it a bright red.

Hawke shrugged non-committedly, already cleaning off her sword with one of the corpse's coats, eyeing the glinting necklace he wore.

"They insulted my mother," she answered, "No one insults my mother and lives to tell the tale."

"He insulted your...," Alistair palmed his face, groaning, "Maker's breath; oh no they didn’t. They just had to be the _unmannered_ type of criminals. Who would've thought? Look, they only asked for a small toll, we could've just paid and be a lot farther than where we are now, a bit cleaner and definitely less, erm, murderly."

"And miss the chance to make Thedas a safer place to live? Never. Besides, they were amateurs, couldn't you tell? There was no risk involved as far as I'm concerned. I do hope you have not broken a nail or something equally horrific that messes up your meticulous physique?"

He gave her an incredulous look, slowly shaking his head, "You are impossible. Reminds me of someone just as obscene. I guess that runs in the Amell family."

She narrowed her eyes at him and once again, like so many times since they set out towards the Western Approach they were locked in a dead-stare. Maker but he was infuriating, grating on her nerves with every self-righteous gesture and annoyingly diplomatic noise he made.

Hawke was tired. Tired of fighting him at every decision that had to be made and more than tired of the endless arguments. But mostly she was literally exhausted; not having slept more than a few hours every night. At least they had agreed on that point; both wanting to get to their goal as soon as possible, the pressure of the Warden threat ushering them forward at a gruelling pace that left her more than a little irritable.

Perhaps, in other circumstances, she would have been able to get along with the disciplined Warden. Maker forbid, even _like_ him but in their current situation that was out of the question. Her brash and headstrong nature and his stoic stance and misplaced jokes clashed terribly, more often than not putting them in a situation exactly like the one they were in right now.

But she did have to keep in mind that he had a tougher time of it; often she forgot that he also had the song of the fake Calling clouding his mood almost constantly.

Hawke sighed and relented, for now. She felt dirty and sticky from the sweat and gore that she was covered in after the short but intense scuffle and wanted nothing more than to clean up. It took some effort to look away, her pride nagging at her to never give in, but she managed to turn swiftly and crouched low to rip the bandit’s necklace off.

“I’m having a disturbingly strong flash-back to the Fifth Blight right now. Naturally it wasn’t enough for you to rob them of their life, their belongings are just begging to travel with us, not?”

She shrugged off the jab, “Tsnot as if it’s any use to them anymore. If it keeps your sensitive conscience at bay we can donate some of it at the next chantry we see.”

She could feel him shifting irritably in place behind her, “I think you’ve misspoken ‘all of it’. On second thought; let’s not get you anywhere near a chantry shall we? Lest you feel the sudden urge to, oh, I don’t know, blow it up or something.”

_Bethany would not want me to punch him. Bethany would not want me to punch him. Bethany would not…_

Her palms were hurting from where she had dug her nails in to the point of nearly breaking the skin. She had to get out of his vicinity, right now, before bad things were going to happen. She stood swiftly, grabbed her pack from where she dropped it earlier and set off to the forest’s edge. Away from the path they had travelled and away from him in particular.

A break was most definitely in order, she decided. She would find the nearest river, bite through the freezing cold because she just _had_ to get clean and then make camp for an early and preferably long night. She climbed fallen logs, jumped over rocks and rushed through bushes at a blinding pace, knowing there was a river somewhere nearby the road and acting purely on geographical memory to guide her towards it.

It was thanks to her cat-like reflexes and strong calves that she didn’t fall into the water that suddenly appeared in front of her when she broke through some snow-covered shrubbery. She dug her heels in and almost keeled over but was able to grab the trunk of a young tree to keep her up. Hawke had only a second to brace before Alistair collided into her with all the speed and grace of a Druffalo on a rampage.

“Ouch, careful you big oaf!”

“Careful?! You are the one running off on a temper tantrum! Must I remind you that we have _just_ been attacked? Maker knows how many more of those are just waiting to ambush us.”

She turned to face him fully, hooking her calf behind his knee and with one powerful move shoved him down into the snow. Before he could even yelp out his surprise she had her sword out, tip pointed to his throat.

The forest was eerily quiet around them, nothing but the sound of their heated breaths warming the air in puffs of steam.

“Let the bastards come,” she said, boring her eyes into him.

For once he kept his pretty mouth shut, a wise move as she was utterly at the end of her wits. She stepped back, sheathing her sword and not sparing him another look as she turned again towards what appeared to be a small pool. Only now did she notice the steam rising from the crystal clear waters and she almost broke out in tears at the welcome sight.

“We need a break,” she said.

“We need to stop getting distracted,” he replied.

“Which is why I need a break, Alistair. We’ve been at it almost non-stop and have made good time so far. Something is going to break if I keep going and I’m sure you wouldn’t want it to be your nose.”

He stepped up next to her and from her peripheral vision she knew he was also eyeing the warm spring longingly. He sighed, “I guess it’s the only way to stop ourselves from killing one another. I’m sorry, Hawke. It’s just, this song is driving me mad.”

She turned her head towards him, frowning at the open look of concern he gave her. His eyes, those beautiful amber eyes that often haunted her thoughts looked so vulnerable at that moment that she had to look away before she did something stupid like pull him into her arms to soothe the pain hidden inside.

The tension now dissipated, she felt another wave of exhaustion wash over her. Eyeing the pool, she decided a soak was long overdue. She just wanted to stop thinking for one moment and the water called out to her, steam rising serenely from the surface into the cooling air, promising the peace and relaxation she craved. Wordlessly agreeing to set aside their endless discussions, they unshouldered their packs and spread out their bedrolls on a flat slab of granite, kept clear from snow and cold by the nearby hot spring.

After taking off her armour she grabbed soap and a wash cloth and padded over to the edge of the pool, disposing herself of boots, socks and after a moment of hesitation, her leather pants. Deciding not to care of undressing in front of Alistair she kept her gaze locked on the water and slowly stepped in, leaving her stuff at the edge. The warmth was sensational making her bite her tongue for she'd moan out loud. The rocks descended steeply but soon she had reached the middle of the pool, the water being shallower than she had originally thought. It reached her tunic, soaking the hem of the cloth. Dubbing the cons and pros for a beat, she daringly threw caution to the air and in one smooth motion lifted the piece of clothing up over her head and threw it at the bank behind her.

Left only in two pieces of underwear she pulled her knees up and let the water come up to her chin, this time unable to muffle a pleased groan. The water was much hotter than she had expected, and she instantly felt aching muscles ease up in the scalding temperature. A soft sort of moss covered the rocks at the bottom which tickled her feet pleasantly.

Vaguely she picked up tinkling noises behind her; the sounds of plated armouring falling to rocks. Alistair was undressing himself and even though she had seen him do that for days now it always reminded her of that one night they were caught out in the rain, his naked torso glistening wetly, drops of water running paths along ridges and scars. Her breath hitched with the force of her imagination; she wondered how his skin would feel if he was standing behind her in the hot spring, she pictured she'd turn around and slowly trace his abdominal muscles, fingers slick from the rising steam.

She shook her head, trying to clear the tempting images, knowing it was foolish to pursue such fantasies in their situation but unable to stop them from coming. He’d surely laugh at her if he had any idea that her mind more than often drifted towards very sinful thoughts of them together; exercising a very different kind of fight than their usual. Something rough and challenging between soft sheets and not a piece of clothing on their bodies. At times the dull pace of their march had her thinking of all the ways she could get him to shut up that didn’t involve throwing punches.

It was better this way; with him frowning and sneering at every argument they had. Much better than the tempting smirk he had shown when they first met. Much better to have him at an arm’s length, spitting insults than having to constantly fight off the urge to wake him for his night shift by sliding inside his bedroll and kiss the skin of his throat until he woke, ready to take her.

Hadn't they _just_ had a fight about the dangers of dropping their guard? And here she was thinking of him pulling her against his chest, water sloshing about them, his hand tight in her hair, pulling back and demanding a kiss-

_No, Hawke. Bad Hawke!_

She splashed some water in her face for punishment but it was so nice and warm that it hardly felt like so. Sighing wistfully, knowing she wouldn't be able to stay in the water forever she turned and bobbed towards the shore to grab her soap and washcloth, toes nudging herself forward over the moss-covered stones. She looked up at Alistair when she made a grab for her stuff, just in time to see him look away, blush colouring his face. _Now that was an interesting development._ She smirked devilishly at his seated form; donned only in shirt and trousers with his back perched against a granite rock. He was looking everywhere and nowhere, clearly searching for something useful he could be studying on but failing miserably.

Just because she thought it unwise for them to be pawing at each other like animals, didn't mean she couldn't have a little bit of fun, no? Especially since she still needed to get back at him for standing in the rain so teasingly that it almost made her take the risk of touching herself underneath the cover of her bedroll while he was on watch only a few steps away.

Hawke waded back to the middle of the pool after soaping up the cloth and stood once again with her back towards him. She started on her arms, slowly but firmly rubbing the cloth over first the right, then the left. It had been weeks since she last had a proper, warm bath, so she took her time scrubbing away what felt like layers of grime and dust, leaving nothing but clean, pink skin. She leisurely stroked her neck, humming and making sure to roll her head as if she was in the throes of passion.

She slipped a little bit on the moss, but used it to her advantage to turn sideways, gifting him with her profile as she rubbed the cloth over her chest, careful not to move her breast band out of the way lest she gave him more than just a tease. Her hand moved lower, running lazy circles over her stomach with the rough fabric, leaving trails of bubbles all over her belly. She peeked one eye open, hoping that she was not making a fool out of herself and he would simply be cleaning his gear or likewise but she was almost knocked off her feet at the sight of Alistair staring at where her hand was still circling lower. His hair was ruffled as if he'd ran his hands through it carelessly, his eyes wide and his lips parted. His shoulders were rising steadily as if he'd been running his drills and Hawke suddenly felt her heart hammer in her throat, realising how she was affecting him. And _Maker_ , how that affected her in return.

She turned away from him again, not trusting her resolve if she kept looking at this tempting man. Her imagination was running wild again; seeing herself rise steadily out of the pool, gracefully step towards him as water poured down her frame. Seeing him hungrily eye her body up and down whilst she walked towards where he sat. Plopping down in his lap and surging her tits forwards as he'd grab at her flesh-

_Stop. It._

Quickly finishing her washing, making sure not to overly emphasize her movements she ducked under completely and scrubbed through her scalp to loosen the grease in her black tresses. When she came up the hair stuck over her eyes like a curtain, thankfully shielding herself from more glances towards a specific direction. The soap, although not as effective as the expensive shampoo's she’d had back in her Kirkwall estate, would do just as well washing out weeks of filth. It had gotten too long again, she pushed it back after rinsing thoroughly.

She worried her lip, _Void take me_ , as she realised she had forgotten to ready a cloth to dry herself off with. Her pack lay next to Alistair which would mean walking over like she had just imagined and that was a bit too much to think of. She looked at him again, he seemed a bit more in control. His arms hanging loosely over raised knees and head dropped in between. She pulled her knees up again until only her eyes were above, peeking over the water. She hesitated, then emerged a little.

"Alistair?"

He grunted from in between his knees.

"Could you get me a drying cloth from my pack, please?"

He twitched, then sighed, rolling over to pull her pack towards him and rummaging around in it to pull out a suitable cloth. She had expected him to just throw it towards her, but to her surprise he stood up and unfolded the cloth in front of him as he walked over to the edge. The annoyed frown was back on his face. She gulped and rose quickly, stepping up the stones, careful not to slip. The cold outside of the pool hit her like a ton of bricks and she hurried towards him. She made a grab for the cloth but instead he stepped forward and wrapped her in.

She was in his arms, and he was rubbing her back steadily but not unkindly. She forgot how to breathe as she gazed up at him, never having been this close and this vulnerable in front of him. A heat pooled from inside while he warmed her skin with firm strokes. He looked at a point over her shoulder and she studied the clench of his jaw. It hit her that he wasn't annoyed at all, he was _focussed_. The veins in his neck strained against tight muscles and she wanted nothing more than to taste him there, feel those cords out with her tongue and bite lightly. The cold pooling around her exposed feet and calves were completely forgotten when her eyes drifted up to see him looking back at her, the full force of his restrained want washing over her in waves.

"You," he looked down at her, "Are a wicked tease."

His eyes drifted to her mouth and she realised he wanted to kiss her, just as much as she wanted to kiss him. Reality caught up with her.

"Alistair," his name sounded much breathier than she had wanted, his eyes snapped back to hers. She gulped and tried again with more vigour, "Alistair, what are you doing?"

He blinked, looking dumbstruck. She put a hand against his chest and pushed gently, creating some much needed distance. She couldn't think with him so close and that was dangerous to both of them. He ran a hand through his hair, blush creeping up his neck, "I... I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself."

"Well, get a grip," she hissed, suddenly cold without his heat and frustrated beyond reason. "You were the one speaking all high-and-mighty about not getting distracted and-," here she grabbed her hair with one hand, the other tightly clamping the ends of the cloth around her. "And _Andraste save me_ but I can't wrap my head around you sometimes. One moment you're all valiant and stern and then it's like you flip a handle and you're all... all," she gestured wildly at him.

"Like what?" He smirked through his blush.

She made a disgruntled noise and slapped his shoulder, "Not... Helping! You’re driving me _nuts_ , Alistair!"

His jaw slacked and she felt a bit victorious at wiping the smirk off his face, "I drive _you_ nuts? Says the woman who's practically pleasuring herself in front of me in a pool, but did I give in and dive after you to help you out? _Nooooo_ , I kept to myself like the good boy I am," he thumbed his chest angrily.

Hawke flushed at his words, her actions from before so shamelessly out in the open, and realised she was being a terrible hypocrite.

"Yes, that's right," he continued, "You are just as guilty at this _tension_ between us and I've got a mind to give you exactly what you deserve."

He had stepped closer again and she wavered, holding out a hand up to his chest to stop him as she couldn't back up more or she'd fall back in the water, "Don't say that, don't fucking tease me-"

He growled in frustration, grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly against him. His other hand came up in her hair and he yanked her head back, _just as I imagined_ , then all thoughts flew out of her mind as he kissed her hard. She whimpered beneath the force of it, moving her lips against his in a heated dance that got her squirming against him, instantly wanting more of this intoxication.

Claws scratching against stone and the low rumble of a growl had them breaking apart, both freezing for a moment to stare at the dreadfully large bear that had happened upon them. It roared, prompting the pair to dive for their weapons.

The fight was one of the oddest she ever had, having to be extremely careful to stay out of the beast’s reach clad in only a towel with Alistair having the same issue without his armour. When they finally managed to drive it off; the bear bleeding from several wounds and growling angrily at what should have been an easy meal, they collapsed on their bedrolls, shaking from the anxiety.

Fatigue settled in soon enough but just before she drifted off to sleep she was reminded of the kiss, that terrifyingly sensual kiss and from the burn between her thighs she knew she was in deep, deep trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems this just won't let go of me. Maybe I'll even finish it, who knows what cards the Spirits will deal for me?

**I will seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me.**

**_Ludwig van Beethoven_ **

 

“That bear was a stupid idea.”

The spirit of Unity scoffed at the wraith lingering along their viewing pool, “ _You’re_ stupid! What are you even doing here, this is our private place. Shoo, be gone!”

Unity flapped her arms at the wraith who just shrugged and floated to the side, out of reach from the irate spirit.

“I agree with him,” a second wraith pointed at its companion, “What was the point of adding that?”

Unity mumbled something about near-death confessions of love to the amusement of the wraiths. She huffed and turned her back on their laughter.

“Don’t let them get to you, friend,” the spirit of Empathy said, “You know demons are always trying to turn you into them. Focus on the goal; we will get them together.”

Unity looked at her friend, who was still sitting peacefully amongst the small piles of cards that they stumbled upon in the Fade. The spirits had quickly figured out how the cards were linked with the viewing pool from which they looked down upon the land of the living. The first combination of cards they had used hadn’t given them the result they were looking for; to connect the two humans that were so inexplicably linked to each other.

Their second attempt wasn’t fearing any better, or so it seemed, and Unity was almost ready to give up and try again. She floated closer, out of earshot of the wraiths that were elbowing each other while pointing down in the waters. A gesture copied from the living which seemed doubly odd given that the green goo that their bodies were made from simply passed through each other.

“They are right, though. We should’ve never added that animal card. They were doing so well at becoming together.”

“No,” Empathy said, fingering another card in his hand, “He would have stopped it. It was not the time and place. She would’ve been even more ashamed of losing control than she is now. Stone and stubbornness. Any further advances would have been stopped. There is a breach between them now, but at least it’s smaller and not larger.”

If Unity had eyebrows, she would’ve frowned in puzzlement, “Right. If you say so.”

She looked down through the waters, crossing her arms in annoyance at their slow progression. Their subjects were apart. Even now it was living-days later since the kiss and it didn’t seem their short union had done them any good from the volatile bickering that made up nearly every conversation they had. They should be together and it was grating on Unity’s nerves.

She coughed when a puff of smoke passed her, and blinked incredulously at the Rage demon crawling up through the rock beside her. It eyed her for a moment, curiously, then glided towards the wraiths who were happily waving it over.

A shiver went down her spine. If she would have had one, of course.

 

\------

 

The Ferlden winter nights might've been freezing, it didn't bother Hawke that much for the sky was at its clearest during this season. The cold kept her awake while the uncountable stars above her provided an endless distraction. It left her feeling calm and at peace, such a rare state for her to be in. When she plucked that thought out of her mind to examine it further, she had to admit the last time she must’ve felt like this was years and years ago. Maybe one of the nights out raiding with her usual gang on the cliffs near Kirkwall? It felt odd that now, with her current company, that same tranquillity washed over her.

She altered her view from the beautiful sky above towards the edge of the clearing where they had decided to spend the night, keeping a close watch on the two pinpricks of light there.

Ignoring the muffled groans coming from the bedroll in between her and their third, uninvited guest, she bent down and grabbed a stone from her pile.

"Come on then, a little closer," she muttered, throwing and catching the rock lightly in her hand.

When the wolf finally moved into the starlight she cringed at how scraggy it looked. Poor thing must've been kicked out of its pack, probably a young male looking to mate. It stalked closer, belly low to the ground, heading directly for the trashing figure of Alistair.

She contemplated letting the wolf have his way, Maker forbid the guy could use a bite to the arse. Closer and closer it crept so with an exasperated sigh she threw her first stone. It hit the ground in front of the wolf and it froze up for only a moment before it took another step forward.

Cursing softly, she grabbed more stones and threw them in rapid succession.

"Oops," she dead-panned when some stones landed directly on the blanket covering her Warden companion. As she expected, he awoke with a yell, springing up with his sword at the ready.

For a moment, the wolf and he stared at each other making it difficult to see who was more shocked. When Alistair screamed in its face, the animal finally fled, startling the half-awake warrior into a little jump. She laughed loudly.

"Maker's breath, was that a wolf? Why are you laughing?"

His more-than-irritated look only threw her into another fit of giggles.

"Oh relax, already," she said after wiping her eyes. "You were in no danger. It was only a pup. Besides, you were having another nightmare so you needed to wake up anyway."

He looked at his bedroll, seeing the stones, "By throwing rocks at me?"

"Of course," she replied, nodding at the tightly gripped sword in his hand, "I have plenty experience with waking up Wardens during their nightmares. Nearly singed my eyebrows the first time that happened so no way I'm getting anywhere near you during that. Rather enjoy my body staying un-pierced."

When he frowned down his arm she noticed it was trembling, as did he, and the dark look he gave her spoke volumes, "You think this is some joke to you, isn't it? 'Let's wake up the Warden by throwing rocks at him,' ha-ha, damned hilarious."

"Oh, come off it," she scoffed, "Man up. You'd rather I let you have your beauty sleep, dark spawn and all?"

“Would’ve been preferable to waking up to a beating and a wolf breathing down my face!”

“I knew it, I should’ve just let him eat you, make my life a better place,” she was seething now, “I bloody well saved your worthless hide. What are you having a go at me, for?”

“I just dreamed that-,“ his breath hitched, stopping himself from saying whatever it was he was going to say. Hawke lifted an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.

“Forget it,” he said, and threw his sword back on his bedroll to then sink down beside it. He held his head in his hand, ruffling his hair up with an exasperated sigh. Whatever it was he had seen in his dreams must’ve haunted him severely but she wouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. It wasn’t her fault he had shitty dreams. Hawke had her own fair share of them and had dealt with each and every one of them on her own, as always.

“Who did you sleep with?”

Hawke spluttered, “Excuse me?”

“I mean the Warden that you spoke of; having experience of waking them up?” He didn’t look at her, head between his legs just like that night at the pond.

“That is none of your business,” she nearly laughed at the idea of discussing her former lover with _him_.

“It was the same Warden who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall, am I right? You slept with a murderer.”

She could not believe him. Out of all the spiteful things he had said to her, _this_ was the topping on the cake. But instead of the anger she expected to feel at his barb, all it did was make her heart clench when she was forced to reminisce about all she kept locked up, deep inside.

“I did not.” She hissed lowly, “Anders was a loving, funny man who spent most of his days and night helping the poor and ailing without even asking for one thing in return. He was consumed in the end by his own delusions and I did not sleep with him after _that_ happened since I was the one who put the knife in his back and ended his torture.”

He glanced up with an unreadable expression. Claws of bitterness were scratching at her heart but she set her jaw defiantly and looked Alistair straight in the eye.

“It was for the best,” she spat, the final sentence being the platitude for the beast within, it being forcefully pushed back to its cage to deal with some day. Certainly not now.

Was that a flicker of understanding that she saw in the amber of his eyes? Even in the dead of night the twitch around his eye had been clear. At this moment in time, even the crickets were silent and he kept her gaze for a few frantic heartbeats before he sniffed and grabbed his sword again, studying the handle.

“We’ve met before, although you seem to have forgotten.”

Hawke wondered whether he was trying to divert the subject or if there was a point to be made, “Who do you mean, me or Anders?”

He looked up at the moon in thought, “I think both of you. It was during the Qunari invasion that we passed through and spoke briefly.”

“Oh,” she muttered. But she did remember then; all her focus had been on the unexpected sight of her baby sister after having last seen her as a near-corpse years ago. It had been so good to feel her in her arms again, alive and well, if only for a fleeting moment.

“Hey,” she said, a sudden thought coming to her, “If you knew who I was, then why did you…”

She touched the back of her head, fingering the scar there. He smirked back at her, joyous expression in his eyes almost as if he expected her to come to that conclusion.

“I never asked for you to show me,” he leaned back on his hands, sword in his lap, “You offered and it would’ve been so rude not to take you up to it. Besides, I was curious how it looked, sooooo…”

She gawked at his laid-back form, completely off track. Then he yawned loudly saying, “You know what, I think I still have some time before it’s my turn, right? Thanks for the _lovely_ chat, please try to wake me by using that captivating voice of yourself, next time.”

Then he flopped down and it took Hawke longer to snap herself out of her stupor than it took him to fall asleep. This man was going to be her demise. She was sure of it.

 

\------

 

Minutes after her lunch with Varric, Hawke was miserably stomping up the steps of her tower. Well, obviously, it wasn't _her_ tower but she'd come to think of it that way as they kept pushing her into it whenever she was visiting Skyhold. It was damp, it had holes and it was barren but if she placed the old, luxurious bed _just so_ then the draft and any snow that would be blown in through the numerous openings would miss her completely, leaving a lovely, cosy, almost warm spot that was hers and hers alone.

Let the pampered nobles have the posh rooms in the guest wing. Her tower was decidedly better than how she had slept the last few weeks. No complaints there.

Slamming the door behind her she plopped down on the mattress next to where the runners had placed her pack. It would've been so easy to fall asleep right there and then, but it was only just past midday and she had a few more things to tag off her to-do list before she could drift off. Not even the promise of a full, long night sleep would keep her away from first enjoying Skyhold's luxurious hot-spring baths.

Pulling herself up she upended her pack, taking out all the smelly stuff for the servants to wash over-night. Luckily they had left fresh clothing for her so she could finally redress in something that did not stink like it had been lived in for over a month.

She'd need to re-pack for tomorrow soon, the war-council having decided to not waste another day lounging about after the painful truths that were uncovered at the Warden ritual. Regardless, she would not think about that any more today. There would be plenty of time to do so when they'd march with the full army from tomorrow. The rest of this day would be about relaxation and clearing her mind.

Definitely not about royal bastards.

She removed her armour, dropping the pieces on the pile for the servants to clean, trusting it would be clean and fresh for the morning to come. Her head was stuck in her shirt when the door opened and a frighteningly familiar groan sounded behind her.

_Oh for fuck's..._

"You know, if you keep undressing in front of me I'm going to start thinking it's not a coincidence anymore."

She pulled her head out of her shirt and gave him no more than a side-ways glance, "If you would have the decency to knock before entering you could go right back to doing what you do best; not think at all."

" _Ooooh,_ very snarky."

"What are you doing here, Alistair," she sighed, yanking a fresh shirt on, chagrined at her increased heart rate and not able to come up with a suitable sarcastic response because of it.

"Honestly, I had nothing to do with this. Was told this was the only place left to spend the night here. I didn't know this was where you slept."

She stepped in the loose breeches and felt secure again, now fully clothed. She waved at a pile of straw mattresses in a corner, "I don't own the place; do as you like."

A snort, then he moved to the other side of her spacious bed and dropped his pack there.

"Oh, _Void_ no," Hawke spluttered, " _My_ bed."

"It's large enough. You're having a laugh if you think I'll sleep on some mouldy straw while there's a perfectly fine bed available. What are you afraid of, that you'll end up cuddling me after a bad dream?"

Hawke didn't want to look at him. She was afraid the last threads of resolve she was hanging on to would snap if she looked at him now. The irony of their situation was not lost on her; safe, alone, one bed... yet still the same urge to kick him in the balls with every mocking word that left his mouth.

Silently seething, she voiced the first thing that came to her mind, hissed through clenched teeth.

"What?" He said.

"I said; 'you're a bastard'," she regarded him from her side of the bed, "And not just any, you're a _royal_ bastard at that."

He lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed, and that shouldn't make her want him even more, "That's pretty common knowledge, your point?"

She had completely lost her point. He eyed her with quiet disdain, a confident gleam in his eyes that spoke of his amusement at her flustered state. The way this man got under her skin was impossibly frustrating. She needed to get out of there and fast, lest she do something she'd regret terribly.

Grabbing her bathing essentials, she moved to the door.

"Are there baths here?"

She halted, "Since Adaar would rather chops off heads than take prisoners, they decided to break out the cells and turn it into a bathing area."

"That sounds perfect," he murmured, "It's been a while since our last bath, hasn't it?"

She made the mistake to look at him in recognition of that night, and the way his lip curled up and eyes shone enticingly, heated her into thinking his thoughts mirrored her own. He was leaning back against the pile of mattresses, looking every bit the bedroom lover he promised her to be with that inviting glint in his eyes.

"Just.... Peachy!" she yelled, and rounded on the door, slamming it on her way out towards the serenity of the baths. Perhaps first a cold bucket over her head before she would try to submerge her needs in the scalding hot water.

 

\------

 

"Sister Nightingale!"

Leliana, the Spymistress of the Inquisition halted in her route towards the keep to address Hawke with a mysterious smile, "What can I do for you, Champion?"

After her luxurious soak in the baths of Skyhold, Hawke happened upon the advisor making her way towards the keep. She came to a stop next to her, thinking of how to formulate her question, "I have an inquiry about one of your troops."

"Oh?" The Sister cocked her head slightly, inquisitive eyes sparkling from underneath her hood, "I was on my way to the gardens to speak to Mother Giselle. Please, join me and ask away. Although you must forgive me, but if this is about our forces then you would probably better be off requesting the Commander's help."

Hawke knew it had been furtive to hope avoiding that topic. She straightened her back, "Commander Cullen," she nearly spat his name, "And I do not get along well. I was hoping to avoid having to speak to him as this is a fairly personal matter."

"You have captured my attention, Ser Hawke," she gestured towards the stairs of the keep, inviting her to join her in the walk up. The mysterious, knowing smile never leaving her face.

"During our travels to the Western Approach, we came upon an old... acquaintance of mine. He had expressed the wish to join the Inquisition and I had him sent off to the town of Sharnia in the Emprise. I am wondering how he is faring."

"Very well, I shall make inquiries, what is his name?"

"Jensen, ah, I only know his family name, sadly."

She was amid explaining the details to the Spymistress, opening the last door towards the garden, when they were halted by heated shouts. The garden was often filled with visiting nobles and soldiers off duty, all of which were currently huddled around the source of the noise.

Leliana and Hawke shared a concerned look before they moved to push through the crowd, gently shoving those aside who didn't jump out of the path of the famed ladies. At the centre, they were shocked to see an extremely irate Morrigan in front of a stone-faced Alistair.

"Try to deny it, you fool," the Witch of the Wilds spat, "If it weren't for your stubbornness, she would be alive today."

"You don't know that. You've never been sure of anything, let alone if that stupid, creepy ritual of yours would have even worked in the end."

"There was a very high chance! I was meticulous, thorough. Was that not enough reason to try it?"

"And let you put some sort of archdemon baby on this world? It may have saved her life, but at what cost, Morrigan. Who know what this child of yours would have been capable of. But you couldn't see past that, could you? All you wanted was that potential power all to yourself, blinded as you are by your pitiful envy of your own mother."

"That is _not true_! I _loved_ Solona, I would have done anything within my power to be at her side forever."

"And you think I did not!?"

"Clearly not, when will it get through that pig's head of yours that it was in _your_ hands to decide her fate! It is your fault that she died. You killed her!"

"Enough!"

Hawke stepped resolutely in between the fighting pair, sword drawn and pointing at the Witch.

"Stay out of this, Hawke."

"Alistair, shut up. I've seen enough to know when an argument is lost to pointless bickering and I will not stand here and have this woman accuse you of murder. Not on my watch, missy."

"You have no business here. Begone," Morrigan said indignantly

"I go wherever I please and do whatever I want. Crawl back to your lair before I- Hey!"

She was pulled back roughly, Alistair's hand clenching her upper arm in a vice-like grip. The crowd split apart, making way for the irate Warden and his cargo. He marched them towards the back of the garden, swiftly ascending the stairs leading up to the battlements.

Trying to stop his man-handling of her by digging her heels in at every step of the way, her other hand scratched at where he held her but the Champion had to shamefully admit that she was no match for Grey Warden strength. He dragged her up and around the corner, violently smashing open the door of the nearest tower.

Her breath left her lungs when he slammed her against the wall, pinning her down with his forearm against her sternum, knees blocking hers to keep her from kicking out. She lashed out but he grabbed her wrist, pressing it painfully hard to the stone next to her head.

"The fuck, Alistair," she yelled in his face, "What was that for?"

"Calm. Down."

His eyes bore into hers and she struggled for a while longer until she realised it was utterly fruitless against his superior strength. She breathed hard, chest rising and falling beneath his arm, the air thick with heated tension. Her stomach clenched suddenly, their proximity and the raw display of power doing nothing to stop the quickened beating of her heart.

Hawke turned her head away from him, flushed cheeks hopefully being mistaken for anger and not the lust she felt coursing through her now.

"You shouldn't have done that," she snapped her head back to him at his calm voice, "I knew what I was getting into when I confronted Morrigan. This was something both she and I needed to get off our chest and you had no business interrupting that."

They were so close that she had to shift her eyes to study his. He seemed so calm, collected, but the blush staining his cheeks that mirrored hers, combined with the faint sheen of sweat gathering at his temples told her otherwise. His words stung.

"I only wanted to...," she trailed off, unsure herself of how to end that sentence. What was it she had wanted? All she remembered is seeing red as soon as the witch had insulted and threatened her friend, and it was pure instinct that had driven her to stand to his defence. Of course, it was stupid, ridiculous. Not only was the witch rumoured to possess immense power but if anything, Alistair was surely more suited to defend himself against his past companion than her, a simple warrior woman.

And when did she come to think of him as a friend? But there it was. Despite the endless bickering and hardships that they had endured, her actions back at the garden had made it clear that she had come to care for Alistair, whether she liked it or not. Hawke had always been driven by her instinct, letting her actions speak for her, so she felt no remorse when she blurted it out.

"I wanted to kill her for calling you a murderer. No one messes with my friends."

He veered back, eyebrow lifting curiously, "You're such a violent woman, isn't that a bit hypocritical?"

Hawke shrugged, the movement strained beneath his arm.

"I never claimed to be logical. When it comes to friends I just act before I think."

"You keep saying that; friend," he growled the word, "I don't remember signing up for that and I also don't think it's wise of us to think as such."

She swallowed, throat suddenly dry under the intense stare, "Why not?"

"Because," he breathed, then leaned even closer to softly rub his cheek against hers, his lips a hair's breadth away from her earlobes to whisper, "The things I want to do to you will be considered very inappropriate."

His lips graced the skin below her ear in the softest touch, the effect setting her body aflame exactly as he described and she wanted more, so much more. He pulled back, his eyes catching hers while his mouth brushed hers; not quite a kiss but seducing her into giving in first.

Hawke had never been more aroused in her life when he slowly licked her bottom lip, sending sparks right down to in between her legs where she could feel herself getting more than a little wet. Something had to give. Blood was rushing through her veins due to her heart beating at an alarming rate. Something he surely must have noticed for his arm was still effectively pinning her down, giving her no means of escaping.

And just when she was about to bury her pride and take the plunge he spoke once more, "It would be such a shame to never have you out of worry that you'd fall in love with me."

Like a bucket of ice-cold water dropped over her head, her heated lust made way for frozen rage.

"What!?" She seethed, " _I_ fall in love with _you_? Who the fuck do you think you are, Alistair?"

She struggled to get loose, shoving him back harshly as soon as she had regained her hand's freedom. He allowed her freedom by stepping back slightly, infuriatingly smug smirk set on his face as if he'd just won an argument.

"If you think for just one moment that there's even a small chance of me falling for you, arrogant arse, then you-"

He laughed, he _actually_ laughed. She roared in anger then lashed out, putting all her force behind the blow but again he simply caught her wrist and used the momentum to turn her around pinning her to the wall by pressing his entire body against her to block any movement.

"Good," he spoke directly in her ear, "Then I can finally do this."

His mouth attacked her neck, sucking behind her ear then licking a hot trail along her hairline. For all but a fleeting second was she stunned before a moan tore through her as her arousal returned tenfold. Embarrassed, she snapped her jaw shut to which he chuckled mockingly into her hair.

That did it for her. Pure fury, the same deep, dark energy that had brought the Arishok to his knees enabled her to push him back.

“You… You,” Hawke couldn’t breathe. Entirely consumed by blinding madness from the way Alistair seemed to happily push all her buttons at once. The ones driving her absolutely mental in every possible way. To her shame, her utter shame, her sight blurred. Impaired by the stress bearing down on her she couldn’t get a single word past the constriction in her throat.

At her speechless fuming, she watched how Alistair’s grin morphed into a look of concern and Maker didn’t that make her hate him even more. The last thing she needed now was his void-damned pity at the state he brought her in.

“Hawke, I-,“ She held up a hand to stop him from apologising. She would not be held accountable for the result if he overstepped that last line. In all their time together, they had fought more times than she cared to count. They shouted and bickered and said the most horrible things to each other and that was okay. Hatred she could take, easily. Bitterness and anger were familiar; they looked her in the face every time she glared at a mirror. Sympathy was acceptable, if from a friend like Varric.

But pity? Concern? Empathy?

She would not break down in front of him. Instinct guided her feet when she ran, fled from him like prey from a predator, back to their tower. She was done for. All she wanted to do now was to curl up on her cot and sleep away the last hours of this dreadful day.


End file.
